


To Jim and Blair, Thanks For Everything, Adam West

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim. Blair. Toys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Jim and Blair, Thanks For Everything, Adam West

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this story has its roots in some bizarre conversations between Eliz1349 and myself. Don't ask me how we got on the topic of Adam West, but he's been popping up in our discussions so frequently that she challenged me to put him in a TS story. I offered to give Eliz a pseudonym, but she preferred to take her share of the responsibility. Brave and noble woman! 
> 
> So, thanks to Eliz for some of the ideas contained herein, although neither of us has _any_ experience with sex toys. Oh no, not us! 
> 
> Warning: There is absolutely no deep, dark angst in this story. There isn't even any shallow, light angst. Just humor and sex. 

## To Jim and Blair, Thanks For Everything, Adam West

by Texas Ranger

Author's disclaimer: Jim and Blair aren't mine, but after seeing the way PetFly's been treating them lately, I took pity and borrowed them.

* * *

"Aw come on,Jim," Blair said as he stopped the car. "You're being ridiculous. Don't tell me you've never been in one of these places before." 

Jim sighed, taking in the whole scene: parking lot looking like a great place to get mugged, cars with darkened windows rocking suspiciously, and best of all, blinking neon naked woman sign pointing to the entrance of the Cascade Adult Book Store. "Yeah,sure, Chief, but I was usually there to bust the place. And I doubt there's ever been a book within 100 feet of this place." 

Blair grinned. "Maybe not, but that's not what we're after here, is it?" He laid a hand on Jim's thigh and leaned in close. "Great literature can wait. We have other things planned this weekend." He gestured to the building. "Well?" 

Jim hesitated. "What if we see someone we know?" 

Blair rolled his eyes. "Then they're here too, right?" He opened the door and jumped out of the car. "Come on!" he urged, striding confidently toward the den of iniquity. 

Jim took a quick look around, assured himself that there was no one watching, and followed, wondering how the hell Sandburg had gotten him here. 

Balls. He _knew_ how. The same way many a great man had been lured into doing something humiliating: the promise of mind-numbing, clothes-ripping, world-rocking sex. Blair had promised Jim a weekend to remember, filled with toys, love, and quite possibly a visit by the police prompted by a neighbor who had heard screams, moans, and begging coming from 852 Prospect. 

He thought of telling his Guide that Bill Clinton had probably felt this way when faced with Monica Lewinsky and the floor of the Oval Office, but figured it would only give Sandburg ideas of Jim in a rubber Clinton mask, so he let it go and followed Blair to the door of the "bookstore". 

"Chief," Jim muttered, catching Blair's arm, "the word of the day is 'discreet', right? I mean, in and out here. No fuss, no noise." 

Blair licked his lips and gave Jim the once-over. "In and out sounds about right, but you can count on a maximum of fuss and noise." 

Jim refused to respond to the heat in Blair's eyes. "No, really," he insisted. "Let's get...whatever it is you want to get...and get out of here, okay?" 

Blair shrugged. "Sure, Jim. Whatever.Discreet is good." So saying, Jim's Guide, Little Guppy, and life-sized fuck doll extrordinaire bopped happily into the store. 

Jim followed close on his heels, using the anthropologist as a shield against the millions of prying eyes that were at that moment undoubtably trying to catch Jim Ellison entering a dirty bookstore. That may or may not have included the FBI. 

The good news was that the inside of the store was dim. The bad news...not dim enough. Given his druthers, Jim would've preferred blackness so complete even Sentinel sight couldn't penetrate. Jim figured they could grope their way into the joint, grab some merchandise, kinda guess at what they were buying, and get the righteous fuck outta there so the real fun could start. As it was, he simply had to accept what was with his usual good grace. 

"Jesus, Sandburg!" he hissed into his partner's ear. "Why does everyone in this place look like perverts?" 

"Because they _are_ ," Blair responded calmly. "And so are we, Jim. I'm very much at peace with my inner slimebag, and-" his face lit up suddenly as he spied something interesting and headed for it. 

Jim trailed closely, not wanting to be mistaken for one of the "singles" who haunted the place, hoping for some date bait. 

Blair stopped by a small display of cheerfully-colored vibrators. "Hel-LO!" he crowed, picking up a bright blue one and inspecting it critically. " 'Two AA batteries required'", he read, frowning. "AA? Are you kidding? That isn't even enough power to get a decent tickle on, let alone the kind of buzz I'm looking for." He shook the vibrator under Jim's nose. "Now, hook one of these babies up to a gas generator and you're talkin' my language." He mimicked pulling a chain. "Rev that puppy up and stand back!" 

Jim colored and looked around self-consciously. Maybe the singles idea wasn't so bad. He wandered away from his lover, who was still running a discriminating eye over the gaudy toys. He casually slunk into an unoccupied corner, a quiet corner, a dark corner, a corner where he could- 

"Detective Ellison?" 

Jim jumped. "Huh?" 

A small, weasel-faced man hurried over and peered myopically through bottle-thick glasses. "Detective Ellison! I thought that was you!" he yelled, grabbing Jim's hand and pumping it enthusiastically. 

Jim shrunk from the curious gaze of a dozen patrons. "Rick the Dick," he greeted weakly, extricating his hand from the sweaty grip. 

"Well, goddam! I haven't seen you since you busted me for indecent exposure the last time...how long has it been?" 

"Since you've been arrested for indecent exposure? Probably yesterday," Jim muttered, crossing his arms across his chest and trying to blend into the wall. 

The little man guffawed loudly. "So, what brings you here?" he looked worried for a moment. "You're not here to shake the place down, are you?" 

"Me? No-" Jim was suddenly seized by an idea, a blessed way out of a situation that was quickly going down in the Mortification Book of World Records. "I'm just checking the place out," he said coolly. "Making sure there're no minors, you know." 

Rick the Dick nodded wisely. 

Jim gave a cocky shrug and went on. "You know what goes on in these places, what kind of people hang here." 

"Scum of the Earth," Rick the Dick agreed sagely. 

"And I'm just doing my job, protecting the people of Cascade from-" 

The thought was cut off as Blair rushed up, two packages in hand. "Which one do you like best, Jim? Phallic Purple or Orgasmic Orange?" He waved the two vibrators in his lover's face. 

Silence rang out as Jim willed himself to drop dead of a heart attack at the young age of forty. 

"I like the purple," Rick the Dick offered helpfully. 

Blair held out his hand and shook with the man. "Hi! I'm Blair Sandburg, Jim's-" 

"-inspector," Jim finished. "Blair Sandburg, Sexual Products Inspector, Board of Health, Special Division." He rubbed his forehead. _I've definitely been around Blair too much if I'm obfuscating that easily._

Blair smirked, but said nothing about the lie. "Jim, shouldn't we get going? We have a lot of _inspecting_ to do, and I'm hoping to get some serious _research_ done later." 

Jim sighed. "It's a hell of a job...stay out of trouble, Rick." He grabbed Blair's elbow and hurried him away. "Could that have been any more embarassing?" he wondered out loud. "Can we go now?" 

"Go?" Blair looked puzzled. "But you haven't told me which one you like better-" 

"Purple. Can we go now?" 

"-and there are other things we need," Blair continued patiently. 

"Sandburg, can't they wait for another weekend?" Jim begged. 

"Jim, we're out of lube," Blair said plainly. "I love you dearly, but I don't want to be wearing diapers the rest of my life, so no lube, no fun." 

"Oh." Jim quickly weighed a weekend of cold showers against a little more time in the Perv Asylum, and opted for the PA. "There it is, over there." He pointed to a shelf of the stuff and ushered Blair over. "What kind?" 

Blair gave him a slow, sultry smile. "I feel adventurous," he whispered. "Pina Colada." 

Jim grinned and snagged a bottle. He glanced down at Blair, took in the smile, the flush on the high cheekbones, and the eyes dilated indigo with desire. He quickly snagged a second bottle. 

"That should last us a few hours," Blair said approvingly. "Now what else looks good?" He sauntered away in search of something more exotic, leaving Jim to follow. Again. 

_I spent my entire Army career resenting following people, so why don't I mind when it's Blair? His compassion? His wisdom? His loyalty?_ Jim took a good look at the view. _Or just one hell of a fine high-water booty._ Deciding that the dirty bookstore was not the place for weighty philosophical issues, Jim joined his lover. 

"Oh, Jim," Blair cooed, "how about these?" He leered and wiggled a package of edible underwear. 

"Grape's my favorite," Jim purred. 

Blair shook his head. "Oh, no. This is my call. After all, I'm the one who's gonna be eating them off you." He selected a pair of wild cherry. 

Jim gulped, thinking deliciously impure thoughts about the anthropologist's talented mouth. His jeans suddenly felt two sizes too tight. "Anything else?" he asked hoarsely. 

Blair looked away coyly. "I dunno," he teased. "I'll have to look around." He sauntered off, giving Jim an excellent show of wiggling hips and twitching bum. 

"He's trying to kill me," Jim mumbled, and hurried to catch up. 

Blair looked over the adult videos, examining likely candidates and putting them back on the shelf. "They all look stupid," he complained. 

"I doubt if any of them have won an Oscar," Jim said. "Just pick one and let's go." 

Blair grinned. "A little impatient, are we? Okay, how about..." he searched quickly and grabbed one. "...this one?" 

Jim snickered. "Ass Masters 4? Oh, that looks like the crown jewel of the cinema industry." He handed it back to his Guide along with a fifty dollar bill. 

"What's this for?" Blair asked. 

Jim fixed him with a look. "You don't really think I'm handing this stuff to the clerk and paying, do you?" 

Blair rolled his eyes. "Of course not. What was I thinking?" He took their toys up to the counter with Jim at his side. 

The clerk turned the lube over in his hands. "I think this is on sale this week." He gestured to the man in back. "HEY, CHARLIE? AREN'T WE RUNNING A SALE ON PASSION FLUID?" he shouted. Heads lifted from the latest issues of Blue Boy and Hefty Ladies to stare. 

Jim cringed, ducking his head to examine his shoes. _OhGodOhGodOGod._ He would've glanced at Sandburg, but he was hideously sure his partner was grinning broadly. He was dimly aware of money changing hands and a paper bag being thrust into his keep. _Well, that really wasn't so bad_ Jim thought, relieved. _It's all over now._

Jim took the lead, confidently opening the door and coming face to face with... "Simon," Jim nodded, trying for cool detachment and failing miserably.

"Jim," Simon nodded back.

"Sandburg," Connor acknowleged from Simon's side.

"Megan," Sandburg said cheerfully.

"Ellison."

"Connor."

"Simon."

"Sandburg."

Pleasantries complete, Jim pulled Blair out, and Megan pulled Simon in.

Safely buckled into the car, Jim slumped in the seat and covered his eyes with his hands. "Why me?" he wondered aloud. "I'm only trying to spice up my sex life a little, no one gets hurt, it should be a simple, dignified thing. But no!" He heaved a heavy sigh.

Blair bounced. "Simon and Megan?" he gushed. "I think they make a cute couple." He leaned over until he was almost in Jim's lap. "Almost as cute as us." he breathed, and ran his tongue across Jim's neck.

Up periscope. Jim's mind may have been embarassed, but his johnson had no such moral code. "Home now," he managed.

Blair started to whisper comments to Jim as he drove, going from coy to suggestive to downright lewd during the fifteen minute drive. By the time they pulled up to the loft, Jim was ready to jump the gearshift and nail Blair to the dashboard.

Mouth superglued to Blair's, Jim fumbled with his keys, managed to open the door, and spilled them both through the door. He moved them to the couch and flopped down, pulling Blair on top of him. They writhed and wriggled, defying laws of physics to undress in record time. Finally, Blair pushed away from Jim and stood, panting. 

"Slow down, Rambo," he said, "or we'll never get to use these." He held up the paper bag containing the night's rewards. He dug into the bag and came up with the edible undies. "Stand up."

Jim complied, and Blair ripped the cellophane off and tied the briefs around his Sentinel lover, letting his hands linger and trail down his crotch. 

Jim threw his head back as he felt Blair's tongue lick delicately at the thin candy bikinis, warming the cool material with the heat of his mouth. He hissed when Blair began to swirl his tongue around the hard length, slowly driving Jim out of his mind. 

Suddenly, the wonderful warmth was gone, and Jim looked down into his Guide's laughing eyes. "Uh uh," Blair said. "Not yet." He handed Jim the vibrator and lube and took up a position on his hands and knees. "My turn."

Jim took a deep breath, silently commanding The General to stand down. He knelt behind Blair and squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. He inserted one finger into the anthropologist's body. then another. He felt the strong muscle squeeze his fingers, then loosen, and knew Blair was ready for anything less than a tractor-trailer to come barreling in there.

Jim coated the vibrator with the lube (which, upon closer inspection, tasted like a pineapple dipped in Crisco)and worked it into Blair until he felt the toy brush the sensitive spot deep in Blair's body. His senses would've told him he'd reached The Prostate Palace on this Magical Mystery Tour, but he didn't bother to dial up. Blair's howl told Jim all he needed to know.

"OH! MY! GOD! YESYESYES!" Blair shrieked and pounded the floor with his fists. Blair was one of the great Hall of Fame Floor Pounders. When the sex got really good, he sometimes thumped out a recognizable tune. Just now, Jim thought it might be "We Will Rock You".

But Name That Tune wasn't foremost on Jim's mind. Pushing the vibrator against Blair's prostate, he turned the dial and let the buzz happen.

Blair went gorillashit, howling and pounding with his head as well as his fists. Jim had a fleeting thought of brain damage as he watched the curls fly, but then figured the floor would give before Sandburg's skull did. He pulled the toy out with an audible _pop!_.

Blair stopped thumping and whirled to look at Jim. "Wha'?" he asked, the closest he could come to an English word.

"Uh uh," Jim mimicked savagely. "Not yet!" He tossed the vibrator aside.

Blair collapsed on his side. "You're a cruel man, James." He heaved himself to his knees. "A goddam sexual Grinch. What now?"

"Now," Jim said, popping the film into the VCR, "we relax and get our bearings." He patted his legs as the film started. "Come sit on my lap and think happy thoughts."

Blair deposited himself on Jim and took in the action onscreen. Typical porn fare. Fucking. Moans. Fucking. Attempted dialogue. Fucking. But Blair could tell it was really turning Jim on, because it felt like a length of PVC pipe was poking him in the ass. Blair wiggled experimentally, and was rewarded with a bite on the neck. He figured it would take about two more wiggles for Jim to lose control and take him as he deserved.

_Bite._

_Bite, lick._

_Bite. Lick. POUNCE!_

In one smooth motion, Jim flipped Blair on his back and jumped ontop of him, thrusting blindly at the opening to Blair's body. Blair craned his neck and attached himself to Jim's lips like a curly-haired leech. He rolled his head to get a better position, and his eyes caught the action on the screen.

"MMMMMPHHH!" he cried, forgetting that he and his Sentinel were spot-welded together. Jim seemed to be in no big hurry to move, so Blair flailed his hands at the tv and made another noise.

Jim broke the kiss. "What's wrong, Chief?" He followed Blair's finger and started. "No, it can't be." He focused his sight. "It is! It's Adam West!"

Blair leaned closer. "In a porn? No way! What is he, 90? 100? Do they let old farts do porn?"

Jim snorted. "Well, he was about 40 when he did the old Batman series, and that was in 1966\. You do the math."

Blair goggled at the screen, where Adam was stripping and lamenting the decline of his acting career, then goggled at Jim. Adam. Jim. He started to snicker.

"What?" Jim asked.

Blair broke into a full-on laugh.

"What?" Jim demanded.

Blair gave up and rolled onto the floor, cackling madly.

"WHAAAAAT?"

Blair held his stomach and rocked, tears running from his eyes. "You-" he tried, but ended in a gasp and more howls. "You in-" he got farther this time. "You in the Batman costume!" he cried, and dissolved into insane chuckles again. "Purple tights! Silk cape!"

Jim grinned and dropped to his knees beside Blair. "To the BatPole, Robin!" he smirked, waving his dick at the giggling Guppy.

"I can't, Jim," Blair snickered. "Not now. Not after Adam West." He wiped the tears from his face.

"You're not going to leave me here with my BatRod in my hand, are you, Robin?" he purred, rolling Blair onto his back and spreading his legs. 

Blair's erection came back with a vengeance, and he thrust his hips invitingly. The Batman game was actually turning him on!

"To the BatCave!" Jim cried, and pushed all the way into his willing Guide. All the teasing and camaraderie had both of them more than ready, and three strokes later they came together.

Jim rolled onto his back and pulled Blair into a warm embrace.

"BatRod?" Blair snorted. "You know, I don't even want to think of the psychological implications of this Batman fetish."

Jim tugged on a curl. "Just to think, we owe it all to Adam West."

"We should write him a letter or something," Blair suggested.

"Or better yet, send him an invitation to our next session," Jim teased.

"Um...I wouldn't go that far."

THE END

AUTHOR"S NOTE: The porno described does exist and does star Adam West, and someone I know _did_ accidentally rent it. Be careful out there, folks, or you might find a naked 73-year-old man in your living room.


End file.
